My GP once told me; “Depression is not a casserole disease.” As in, people don’t necessarily rally around you like they would with a physical illness. Maybe it’s because we don’t talk about this enough.
Mental illness manifests itself in as many different ways as there are folds in our crinkly brains. Each treatment can be personalised for each individual. I’m going to share my approach so you can get an idea of what worked for me, but everyone will have slightly different needs.
The first thing I did was find a therapist. I called my maternal and child health nurse to ask for help and for a recommendation. It took me five months to make that phone call. I blame the PND emotional rollercoaster, the occasional good day gave me false hope that things would get better on their own.
I went to counselling. Through my Bupa private health fund I had access to the Bupa Parent and Baby Wellbeing Program. I had several sessions, my choice of group or one-on-one, with no out of pocket costs. It is essential to maintain regular check-ins with a health professional to track your progress. Therapy was the cornerstone in my healing- no way around this.
I found an occasional care centre, pushed through the guilt and chucked my 8 month old in there for 5 hours, once a week. Sometimes I used the free-time productively and other times I would sleep. Either way I started to recognise the necessity of ‘me time.’ If you can’t spare the child-care expense see if you can swap babysitting with a friend or relative.
In my sessions we started exploring the topic of identity. What it meant and how to rediscover a new identity that included ‘Mother.’ I started making time for some of the things I used to enjoy like yoga, painting and writing. I cut and dyed my hair and repurposed my wardrobe to fit my new lifestyle, sometimes seemingly superficial things can help anchor how we see ourselves. You don’t have to spend money to change your look. Go through what you already have, get rid of what you don’t need, or trade with a friend.
When my daughter was nine months old I joined a local gym with child minding. Moving my body helped with healing my mind and relieving stress. Working out made me want to eat better and it’s amazing how much being physically active can aid in emotional health. Not a fan of the gym? Get out walking with that pram.
I went to every single Mums group catch up and even offered to organise events. These women were on the front lines with me and made me feel less alone. I sought out online communities to ask advice and share my frustrations. Friendships were forged that would never have been possible. Find your corner of the world or Internet.
I started writing about postnatal depression on my blog. At the time I didn’t share my writing with many but one day I decided to put it out there on social media. At first I felt like I had overshared but when the responses flooded in and I heard the chorus of ‘me too,’ this motivated me to keep revealing the truth.
I started to embrace my flaws as a parent and a person instead of loathing them. I decided to admit my mistakes, even to my baby daughter, so I can teach her it’s okay to be human. I stopped feeling guilty about my depression because that is useless as feeling guilty for having brown eyes.
I stopped comparing myself to other parents. I stopped judging others, and myself. I think everyone so badly wants to parent the ‘right way’ that if someone else is doing it differently it means we are ‘wrong.’ Every family needs to do what works best for them. All that matters is that we do the best we can by our children.
You can see how I fought PND from many different angles including mental, physical and environmental. Every tactic I used empowered me to heal myself and to get well. New resources are being developed all the time so experiment, try different approaches like Bupa’s mummatters, a tool built with industry experts to provide a ‘check in’ for mums before and after birth.
If I could add a number nine to my list it would be prevention. Given the belated gift of hindsight I would definitely encourage new and expecting mothers to have support systems in place during and even before pregnancy. If I had help waiting in the wings before I needed it I’m sure my emotional health would have been back on track much sooner. I would have loved a tool like mummatters during my first pregnancy and you better believe I’ll have it for the next one.
You know how sometimes there are people who just radiate energy? The ones who are like, really *alive*? Don’t you want to know how to get more of that into your life? I know I do.
How can we live more fully? I honestly think it comes from creativity. If you don’t think you are a creative person- hear me out (you are).
In some way or another we are all creating our lives, moment by moment. We are born creators. We create things and then we leave those creations behind. Some of us will get more moments than others but we all have a time limit.
I’ve been depressed. I’ve been anxious. I cannot take joy for granted and to make as much of it as I can while I’m capable.
But more than immortality- creativity serves my living energy- it brings me joy. I’ve been depressed, I’ve been anxious, I cannot take joy for granted. When I'm capable I want to make as much as possible.
So what’s stopping you? I would guess fear. It stopped me too- for almost ten years.
Fear, the bastard. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of failure. Fear, fear, fear. I don’t think fear ever goes away for anyone. Maybe we should just accept that fear is here to stay and instead learn to manage it.
I was afraid to move to Australia. Afraid of being a mother. Afraid of calling myself an artist. I freaked out about doing all those things but I did them anyway.
Fear motivates me to be brave. It forces me to be outgoing when I want to be shy. It makes me know that something is worth doing. Thank you, fear (ya bastard).
Why am I banging on about fear when I'm trying to talk you into creating?
Well, it’s because fear is creativity’s captor. Creating something from the heart makes us vulnerable so fear slams down the handcuffs then we sit quietly in jail rather than take the risk of getting rejected.
To bring it back around now- know the secret of those shiny alive people? They embrace their fear. At least that’s my theory. Everything I’ve done in the last three years with my blog, my art, my business has been absolutely terrifying but oh so worth it (and not financially just fullfillingly).
And speaking of finances, it's awesome when someone is willing to pay you for your creations but I cannot stress enough how important it is to create for the sake of it without worrying about the end result- otherwise you are in danger of muddling the process by trying to please your audience.
So what's my one tip for finding your creativity and making your life more electric? Come closer, *whispers* go follow your curiosity. Wish I could have given that advice to my younger self.
I listened to this podcast yesterday and they nailed something that has often haunted me. The idea of following your passion. Well what if you’re like me and you have a little bit of passion for a lot of things?
I remember that pressure growing up- follow your passion! Find your thing! Give it everything! But what if you feel like a teenage boy with ADD at an arcade? Yup.
Instead can I please call on you to simply *follow* your curiosity and see where it leads. I'm pretty sure curiosity is the opposite of depression (EG stated this on the podcast and I agree with her). Follow your curiosity from one thing to the next down twisty roads, in and out of failure and leave a wake of creations. I promise- you will never feel more alive.
Are you too busy?
Sometimes carving out time for creativity feel so selfish. And this is why:
“Any act of pure creativity is the more irrational thing you can do with your time.” Elizabeth Gilbert
This is true. Creativity is not rational. But it is necessary.
Newsflash: no one ever has enough time. I make time for creativity like I make time to exercise. I may not always feel like it but I’m glad I did. And another headline for you: That day you're waiting for, you know the one when you will have more time? It will never arrive.
I don’t know where this saying came from originally (I suspect from The Artist's Way) but it resonated with me when I heard it from Pip Lincolne the teacher of my first (and subsequent) online blogging courses. I followed my curiosity to that course (with a nudge from a friend) which lead me to follow my curiosity about writing, photography, design, arts and crafts, home decor, DIY- all of it. I have not mastered a single one but I’m having a crap-load-of-fun fun learning.
Teach yourself. Ask for help. Make stuff. Don’t keep your creativity to yourself.
Teach yourself. Ask for help. Make stuff. Don’t keep your creativity to yourself. Share it with your community because you never know where it will lead.
Because after all, that is real life. Irrational, alive, life.
She’s crying crocodile tears and howling for emphasis.
The world ended because I turned off the TV as punishment. I can’t even fathom the amount of drama headed in our direction for the teenage years…Aaaaand I think she might be a touch more intense than I was in mine. Tiny baby Jesus help us all.
We were running late and I was running out of patience but I choose this battle for safety reasons. She refused to hold my hand while walking down our new stairs. I have horrifying anxiety about (her) falling down those stairs. Even though they are a glorious annex from our old house to the new extension. Thick, black steel frames holding planks of American oak so smooth you want to bend down and run your fingers over them. A structural sculpture.
One day (hopefully soon) I will paint giant canvases to hang on the walls in the stair-atrium which will add to it’s grandness on a budget.
Screams bring me back into the morning. Defiant. Stubborn. Screams.
Cranky and cold I shove her into a warm coat and carseat as gently as I can muster. I am already daydreaming about it…My morning coffee. Today I get to drink it alone.
I'll be in and out of that drop-off in two minutes flat.
Back home in my new, sun-lit kitchen I will gather my pre-mixed coconut and almond milk, coconut sugar and a white tea cup, saucer and spoon. I'll scoop rich-smelling brown granules into my cup before placing it under the Nespresso machine. I will fill the milk-frother to just below the first line and cap it. I'll push both buttons at the same time and watch the dark, fragrant espresso fill my cup- a wedding gift.
The espresso and sugar will get a stir before they get foam, then I'll stir everything together. Finally I'll rinse out the the machine before taking a sip so I could fully relax and absorb the taste.
That day I might take my cup upstairs to the new art studio. I could put on DJ Diplo and friends radio on Spotify, set up my brushes, glob paints onto a palette, and fill old jalepeño jars with water.
Yes that is exactly what I’ll do as I sip and stare at yesterday’s work. I’ll think about where to pick up today and wonder how the paints are going to cooperate. Better than my daughter, I hope.
The first strokes will tell me. Will it be ‘smooth’ or a battle? Will I dig my heels in or will I work around it? Just as I will start to understand what the paint wants, caffeine will kick in and my feet will start to dance a little.
Almost three hours later an alarm will go off- alerting me that it’s 15 minutes until pick-up. I’ll realise I’m hungry and that I need to comb my hair.
I will scramble to clean up as much as I can before I have (oh shit) five minutes to get to the childcare centre and pick up my daughter. Good thing it’s a three minute drive on a good day.
Back then to the dishwasher and chasing crumbs and I will wait another six days to go back to that place where time lunges forward.
What's your morning ritual?
Why do I blog?
It’s complicated.
Years ago I tried to be a journalist but I didn’t have the discipline for freelance work and the reporters in my hometown were growing into their chairs.
When I decided to move to Australia I had a pow-wow with my editor-turned-mentor and we discussed blogging. He told me to set it up like a business. To connect it to Facebook account, twitter, youtube, (this was over 7 years ago!) He was and still is very clever.
I had a snappy name for my ‘ex-pat’ blog, 'Kangaroo Spotting.' It would detail the accounts of an American who moved to Australia for love. All my social media accounts were-a-go (I didn’t even know what a tweet was back then). One thing Tim, my editor, mentioned was that I had to be prepared to do it for at least a year before I worried too much about monetising.
“Do it for one year,” he wisely told me, “then see if you can turn it into a business.”
I was psyched. I had a plan. I told lots of people about it. I was ready to be validated and acknowledged. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Ha.
That was seven years ago. I never advertise the fact that I started blogging in 2010- especially when I see bloggers who smash my stats after a year or two in the game. There were a lot of crickets those first years. I didn't write regularly and I was not confident in my voice. (Please don’t go through my archives, I realise just saying that will make you want to go through my archives, consider yourself warned).
Adjusting to life in Australia was hard. I felt vulnerable, homesick, and it was far from the romantic experience I envisioned sharing with readers.
Fast forward to the birth of my daughter in 2013. When she came through me it tore down the shoddy walls I built to contain my creativity (and fragile ego). Time was of the essence and my options were now more limited. Reality check- No one was going to hand me a dream job.
I started writing again. I needed to be a person my daughter could look up to, someone who felt fear and followed her passion anyway. I wrote through postnatal depression and I wrote to heal. I wrote to help others and to learn how to help myself. I wrote my way to a creative life and a full heart.
It’s coming up to three years since I started writing in my blog regularly, two since getting serious and one since deciding to put off baby number two for 12 months to see what I could do. In January I set the intention to write a book (and continue blogging) but 2016 had other plans for me.
Instead this year...(I'm about to toot my own horn so feel free to skip over this section and grab a coffee or something).
So I guess the point is not how long I've been blogging but what I've achieved by digging deep. After throwing myself at my blog, I even learned how to reel it back and create some healthy boundaries. You would have thought I would be good at boundaries by now after all those jerk ex-boyfriends! #slowlearner
Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. – Stephen King
I don't think it's really the fear of happiness but rather the fear of losing it.
I felt that way when my daughter and I returned home to Australia after visiting the USA for five weeks.
We made some good memories, achieved a few major goals, had a smooth trip back, came home to a finished renovation and a hubby whom I missed terribly. So much to be grateful for. Despite all that, I felt like things were 'too good.'
I told myself to soak it in, to enjoy, but the anxious part of my brain told me to prepare for the worst.
Why do I do this? I asked my therapist. Why do I feel strange when I'm feeling good? She spoke to me about being whole.
There are dark parts to my personality which do not disappear when I’m feeling happy. Those shadows are with me always, just like all the other complex emotions I feel. Some days they are just there in a smaller capacity.
The idea makes complete sense. It’s a modern concept to strive for consistent happiness. It’s not only unsustainable it’s unnatural.
I did some further reflecting as some Notorious BIG lyrics played in my mind, "Mo money, mo problems." The more we have, the more there is to lose. This leaves us vulnerable. When I think vulnerability Brene Brown immediately comes to mind.
"We are trying to dress-rehearse tragedy so we can beat vulnerability to the punch." Brene Brown
Perhaps joy becomes a terrifying emotion because it exposes us. Perhaps the solution is to first recognise all the other feelings going on in the background, and try our darndest to embrace vulnerability as well. This might prevent the anxious brain from catastrophizing.
We are always all the parts of ourselves. All the emotions. Always whole. Vulnerability is always there if we just look deep enough. And just like weather shifts around the Earth, there are always storms, and there is always a sun, it all depends on where you’re standing.
Like what you've read? Vote for me in this rad Blog Contest.
Sometimes writing in my blog is part of a healing process, other times the stories exist as a living journal, a legacy for my daughter. Often I try and crystallise important moments in time in this virtual frame.
I love sharing, connecting, and I'm happy to give much of myself to readers. Maybe it makes them feel less alone. At least I hope so. The reality is that often people know much more about me than I do about them.
There are some writers and bloggers who put everything out there. Call it confessional, call it oversharing but maybe they are braver than me, tougher than me, or maybe they just have different boundaries.
I’ve read books about writing memoirs (and have yet to finish my own) but they talk a lot about ethics, about making sure to tell your story- not someone else’s. They talk about having healthy motivation for saying what you want to say. This makes sense when it comes to protecting people in your life.
Brene Brown says in her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, that its best to make public only the things you’re already at peace with. Which makes perfect sense because if an issue is unresolved in your mind, you are far more vulnerable to criticism. I’ve made that mistake.
My blog mentor, Pip Lincolne, tells us to be wary of leaving our hearts open on screen, even if we receive supportive feedback, our words will soon become ‘yesterday’s’ blog post. That’s another point to consider. Do I want my heartache to gather dust faster than a computer screen?
Somehow I’ve turned into a bit of Mommy Blogger though I prefer the term ‘Lifestyle Blogger.’ Becoming a mother was a huge part of my story and motivation for re-starting this blog. It’s part of my identity but I worry about what and how to include my daughter. I try and make sure that I am the main subject and she is just part of the detail. I worry about how big her digital footprint is already at age two, not even close to being able to give consent for any of it.
As she gets older I hope to push her more to the periphery of my stories. I don’t want to say anything that will embarrass her, I refuse to talk about potty-training and the like but I have been known to vent about tantrums on Facebook. I guess I won’t really know if I’ve succeeded until she’s older. I guess it's okay if she's embarrassed of me, just not BY me.
Also on that same topic, I don’t write about my husband very much. I don’t write gushy Facebook posts about him either (other than on his birthday or our anniversary). It’s not that he’s off limits but I do enjoy a degree of privacy in our relationship (but I do plan to tell our story in a book- as long as he is okay with it). I do gush about him heavily after wine and when he's out of earshot. Don't worry he already has very healthy self-esteem.
Maybe this whole post is about how I’ve been working on developing healthy boundaries for myself and my writing. I am happy to be open about my struggles with postnatal depression, anxiety and good ole’ regular depression but those are my stories to own. And at the moment I’m not inside them- if that makes sense.
I love this quote from Lawson’s book Furiously Happy:
“I do have boundaries. I don’t tell stories that a mean fourteen year old girl could use against Hailey one day. I don’t write about anything I’m currently fighting with someone about or anything where I’m not the biggest butt of the joke. There are a lot of stories that I don’t write because they aren’t my stories to tell, but I think telling my stories helps to encourage putting other stories out there.”
But yes, from experience, I think it’s better if you’re at peace with the subject matter- which should ultimately be yourself.
Sponsored by Bupa Australia
I have been writing about my experience with postnatal depression (PND) and anxiety since my daughter was five months old. Recently I was offered an opportunity to put my face to this illness in a very public way.
Sometimes when someone offers you an opportunity to ‘walk-the-walk’ it can be terrifying but without fear we cannot be brave.
My family and I appeared in a commercial for Bupa’s Parent and Baby Wellbeing Program which debuted nationally in Australia over a week ago. We are not aspiring actors, just real people sharing our story to help other families who may be going through something similar.
I’ve always tried to speak about my experience with PND openly with my friends and blog-readers but when Bupa contacted me to see if I would like to share my story on national TV I was nervous….but in a good way. Whenever I decide to push beyond the boundaries of my comfort-zone, it usually leads to unexpected growth.
My gut told me told me to do the ad. I have been a Bupa customer since 2011 and I believed in the story they wanted to tell. I participated-in and loved the program they were promoting. The whole thing aligned with my core values. Best case scenario, more women would know about the program and it could help de-stigmatise post natal depression.
By saying yes to the ad, I could potentially reach more people than my blog or mouth ever could.
There are those who don’t believe in sharing such a personal journey and that’s okay too. I tried to picture what that criticism might look like. When I first started sharing stories on the blog I had family members question why I didn’t just write in a journal. They were trying to protect me but I was already hurting.
Back then, just like now, I wanted to go public. To connect to others. To hold myself accountable. To help change the world in my own, small way.
I am confident in where I am and how I got there.
And you know what? Being open about my journey has led to richer, more grounded relationships, deeper friendships and I have become much more confident in myself. Finally, I am not worried what others think of me.
I have learned that post natal depression is so much more common than I ever imagined. Maybe women, like myself, didn’t know where to go to seek help. Even as a Bupa customer, I was unaware I had access to The Parent and Baby Wellbeing Program until I desperately needed it.
So can I please ask you a favour?
Help me spread the word. Share this post with a pregnant friend, a mother, or a family that might need help or support.
Let’s all be accountable for those villages that all parents and children need.
The big extension we are building on our house seems like a metaphor for my state of mind at the moment.
This dream manifesting in our backyard will more than double our living area. It's so close to being completed that I can almost feel the carefully considered finishes on my fingertips and sense the way we will use the thoughtfully planned spaces.
Since our first meeting with the architect 15 months ago so much has changed. Our daughter has gone from baby to little girl, I've lost family members, started a business, struggled to keep depression at bay, tried to practice gratitude.
I think these last few weeks of the project will transform it the most, from blank canvas to bespoke, as soon as the cabinets, flooring and fixtures are installed.
That is where I am with my own mental health. The foundation is sturdy. The walls have been constructed. I have been working on it, hard, since facing post natal depression when Lavinia was five months old. Now I'm digging deeper and discovering the root causes of my emotional dysfunction. Things that go back to my childhood. It's both excruciating and illuminating...like waiting for something you desperately want. I'm so ready to discover the person I am destined to become.
Everything feels crowded in my head and home, ready to burst into a new space. I keep buying homewares and shoving them into cramped closets reluctant to throw anything away because soon there will be more room.
So, maybe creating new room for old junk is not the solution.
I had itchy feet as a young adult and my feelings now are similar to how I felt back when I needed travel to escape myself. I often heard; "Where ever you go, there you are." A true warning indeed yet I believe a new place can allow you to see yourself from a different perspective. Even if it's in your own backyard.
If I've learned anything from running it's that you can't rely on a shift in perspective alone to wipe your slate clean.
It's easy to 'wait' for a big change to make a big change but I think the lesson is: do it now. Hunker down wherever you are and get comfortable in your own skin.
Maybe we need to purge the things we don't need immediately-not-later so we don't drag them along into our future.
A little reminder to myself: Make your baggage a little lighter (literally and metaphorically), Stop counting down the days, Be more patient, Feel where you are in this moment, Declutter the heart and mind now so you can enter your new space with an already gleaming slate.
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| Blog Pal, Jess from Peachy Keen Mumma |
I went to this rad Bloggers Brunch hosted by Kids Business Communications two Fridays ago. The networking was meaningful, the sponsors relevant and the speakers inspiring- it was such a worthwhile morning and afternoon! I even ended up on the news last night. How cool is that?
Thanks Kate, for your deceptively simple words of wisdom.
*This is not sponsored content- just my own thoughts*
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| Won't ever be able to fit into this pre-baby dress again..but thats AOK! |
I’m by no means a label hound (no disrespect if you are, actually I'm just jealous) and I think hunting for bargains is what makes shopping fun. While at University I started shopping at thrift stores and still integrate vintage and pre-loved pieces into my wardrobe. Makes me feel like a treasure-hunting pirate (Plus it's kind of a necessity with Australia's high cost of living) Arrrr!
I had to drag my daughter to the post office to pick up the package because I missed the delivery guy. You can tell she was really excited because she refused to let me carry the box (I have no idea where her stubbornness comes from #guilty).
Once we got home it was like Christmas morning for Mummy. To increase the probability of success I threw on a pair of heels and some Spanx .
One of the dresses was actually too big- which didn’t hurt my self-esteem.
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| No winners in this group |
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| Photo finish- the winners are #2 and #3 |
Round II. This time I think I chose better. I reserved two of the dresses in this lot, the middle one for Stakes Day (but in Navy) and the one on the right for Derby. Glam Corner even sent me a thank you email with a discount code to use with dress rentals. Score.
With the discount, both rentals cost a total of 136.00 (not including the 60.00 spent on try-ons). Here in Australia, you’re lucky to buy a decent dress for under 200 so methinks this is a reasonable investment. And did I mention all the dresses are designer! So fancy.
In the meantime, fingers crossed for warm weather because both these frocks are fashioned for heat. Let's hope my luck holds out.
Check out the DIY fascinator I made to match.
Update: In case you were wondering how I went here is a photo of both dresses! They arrived in perfect condition and on time and returning them was not a hassle. Logistics aside- you can't pay for the confidence I had because of these fantastic frocks.
What are your best trips for dressing-up on a budget?
